Shifting Ashes
by fuckinghawthorne
Summary: Katniss Everdeen and Gale Hawthorne try to retain some sense of normalcy while in the confines of District 13.


**Hi everyone! I've gotten my WiFi back, but I've been suffering major writer's block for Y.M.T.S.F. Shifting Ashes is just something to help me get my writer gears turning again.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. **

District 12 is heavy underneath my feet. It's people choke me, suffocating me with their ashes. I resist the urge to claw at my skin, desperate to rid myself of the memory of this place but terrified to lose it.

Death is everywhere.

_I killed you all, _I think. _I killed you. And your children. You are dead because of me. _

Cressida grips my arm reassuringly. "Thank you for coming back," she says. "I only need a few more shots. We'll be able to leave in no time."

I try to nod my head, but I'm transfixed by the undersized skull at my feet. I tear my eyes away, fighting back tears. I will not allow myself to cry. Not until later, when I can be alone.

Gale's voice is hollow. "Let's get off the road."

We follow him down what used to be an alley, making a beeline for the meadow. The trees wave in the wind, almost completely unchanged from the last time I saw them. They frame the outskirts of the woods, cheerfully oblivious to the tragedy that lies before them. Cressida directs Pollux and Castor to stand in front of the trees, filming Gale and I in such a way so that our backdrop is the wreckage of our home.

"A little closer, please," she says, pushing us together. My shoulder brushes his arms, which are folded across his chest. He doesn't want to be here any more than I do.

"Alright," Cressida says, stepping back. "I think this is good. Let's just do the old Q and A thing, okay?"

Neither Gale or I respond.

"Gale," Cressida starts, standing out of sight of the camera. "You are responsible for saving the lives of over 900 former citizens of District 12. Men, women, and children all owe their lives to you. Tell us about that day. What happened?"

I can feel his body stiffen besides me. I fix my eyes on the trees, watching the leaves blow in the wind.

"I don't know what to tell you," Gale says. "I just..."

Cressida nods, soundlessly urging him to continue.

He sighs, letting the wind speak for him. "Look behind me," he says. Pollux points his camera at the ruins of District 12 while Castor keeps his trained on Gale. "We were given no warning. No reason at all to suspect that something like this would happen."

_You were given me_, I think. I keep silent as Gale continues to speak.

"We were all standing in the square... watching the Games." I feel his eyes on my face, but I continue to stare at the trees. "And then everything went black." he rubs a hand over his face, and I get the sudden urge to run away. I don't want to hear this. I can't.

"Peacekeepers ordered us to our homes almost immediately," he says. "They came out in full force. In full riot gear. For about an hour, everything was silent. It was pitch black by then." He turns to stare at the grey mess that is District 12. "Around eight, maybe nine, they pulled the Peacekeepers out. Every single one of them. They just got in their trucks and left."

He remains silent for so long that Cressida has to prompt him. "And then what happened?"

Gale stares into the camera. "And then I knew."

I tune out the rest of his story. I can't bear to hear it. I can't bear to hear a detailed account of the burning of my people, of the process by which the ashes that cover my shoes were formed.

When it's my turn to speak, I give one word answers. Thankfully, Cressida doesn't push me, and we're back in the hovercraft before lunch. I sit in the corner that's furthest away from everyone throughout the whole ride. Nobody speaks to me, and I don't speak to them.

The usual.

* * *

><p>Nighttime in District 13 is it's own personal brand of hell.<p>

I lay in my scratchy bunk, rolling back and forth. I'm still halfway in my nightmare when my feet touch the ground. I can't stay in here. I can't. I can't.

Prim and my mother are curled together on their mattress, their faces slack and peaceful. I make sure to cover them with my now-abandoned blanket. Buttercup hisses at me, but I ignore him, slipping on my boots.

Thankfully, the doors in District 13 are quiet. I release the latch slowly, creeping silently into the hallway. I've never been caught out here at night by anyone, but I don't doubt that if anyone _did_ see me, I would get into some form of trouble. I don't care much about myself, but the last thing I want is for Prim or my mother to get punished for my actions. I mean, anymore than they already have.

I've barely taken two steps away from door when footsteps echo from down the hall. I quickly dart into the nearest corridor, squatting down and peering around the corner. It's hard to make out in the darkness, but the few safety lights that line the hallways at night illuminate a silhouette I'd recognize anywhere.

Gale.

He walks toward me slowly, carrying a large bundle of blankets in his arms. I ease into his line of sight, unsure of whether or not to speak to him. He seems to be talking to whatever he's carrying. It's not until he gets about ten feet away that I see he's carrying Posy.

Of course. I'm not the only one who has nightmares.

I make eye contact with him as he walks by. "Hang on," he says as he passes me.

I don't even know if he was talking to me or to his sister. I stand there anyways, watching as he quietly opens the door to his compartment, a few doors down from mine. He leaves the door open, but he might as well have closed it for all I can see. It's pitch black in there.

It's not long before I see him ease the door closed. For some reason, I find myself holding my breath as he walks toward me. A strange nervousness sets my brain on edge, causing me to rock back and forth on my feet.

"Hey," he breathes. Just as silent in the cold hallways of 13 as he was in the woods in 12.

"Hey," I breathe back.

We stare at each other for a long time. I don't know what to say to him.

It used to be so easy.

I can tell he feels the same way. "What are you doing up?" he says awkwardly. I know that he already knows.

"Can't sleep."

"Neither could Posy," he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I had to walk her around to get her to doze off."

"Is she okay?" I ask. I genuinely want to know.

"Yeah, she'll be fine," he says. "She just needs to learn how to sleep in a strange place."

"She's a kid. She should adapt soon," I say.

I stare at my shoes for awhile, unsure of where to look or what to talk about. This small bit of meaningless conversation is the most normal thing I've talked about with Gale since before the last Games.

"Are you going anywhere specific?" Gale asks, looking up and down the hallway.

"No," I say. "Just wandering around." I mimic his posture, stuffing my own hands into my pockets. My fingers brush the pearl, and inwardly I cringe.

"Oh, okay," he says.

An awkward silence envelopes us.

"We all thought you were dead, you know." Gale says suddenly.

"What?"

He bites his lower lip, and stares at the ground. "Once everything went black."

"Oh." I don't want to talk about this. I can't.

"Once the firebombs came... I thought for sure they had killed you. Or worse."

His grey eyes look into mine. "They_ have_ done worse," I say. My face betrays me and crumples. "They've taken him away. They've taken_you_ away."

I try to hold back my tears. I can't. Gale reaches out his hands, and without words, pulls me into his chest.

"I know, Catnip," he whispers. "I know."

"I want both of you back," I say, wrapping my arms around him. His body is lean and hard against my own, and smells of the woods. Even here, a mile underneath any tree at all, he still smells of home. I can't get enough. I breathe him in, knowing that I will not be the first to let go this time.

"You still have me here," he says into my hair. "I promise."

We stand in the darkened hallway for a long time, clinging to one another. For the first time in awhile, I feel somewhat decent. Somewhat normal. I clutch his body close to mine, unwilling to let go.

"Please don't leave me," I say. I force the words out of my mouth before my fear snatches them back. "Please stay."

"I will." he says.

"I will, too."

* * *

><p>After that, Gale and I develop a routine.<p>

Every night, we find each other.

During the day, we barely see the other. Sometimes, in the rare moments that I'm not shooting a propo and he's not in training, we manage to glean a few moments together. Usually our hands find each other under the tables. Other times, I isolate myself in my compartment. I lock myself in with nothing but my pearl and my thoughts. Gale respects that, and I'm grateful for it.

No matter what, however, we always meet at night.

At first, it was just in the hallway. We would sit on the floor, leaning against the wall and talking quietly. Now, we talk less and less. I showed him all of my favorite hiding places and we frequent a different one each night. Currently, we're sitting in a large closet containing only a washer with a dryer stacked on top. I don't know who uses this place, but it's always running at night. It leaves the entire closet warm and smelling of soap, illuminated only by a glowing red safety light. The clanging of the dryer drowns out any noise we make, so it's our favorite place to talk freely.

"I brought a blanket," I say kneeling on the floor. I pull it out of my hunting bag. Gale takes it gratefully, wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Come here," he says, widening his arms.

I crawl into his embrace, shifting so my back is against his chest. His legs outline each one of mine, and when his arms close around me, we're both encased in the blanket's warmth.

"I missed you," I say to him, leaning into his body. His head falls into the crook of my neck.

"I missed you too."

We talk until there's nothing left to say. I share my guilt and my fear for Peeta's life, and he shares his dread to leave his family behind once he's finally deemed ready for war. Neither of us offer answers for the other- there are none to give.

We simply must cope.

"Do you remember what you said to me the day that you were whipped?" I say, breaking a long period of silence.

"I said a lot of things," Gale replies. His breath brushes my neck.

I swallow loudly. "You said you didn't want anything made in the Capitol."

I can feel his body stiffen around mine. "I remember."

"Do you still mean that?" I twist my hand around, intertwining it with the hand he had resting on it.

"I don't have anything made in the Capitol," he says.

I don't immediately respond. His thumb brushes my hand, and I close my eyes. I feel guilty for feeling this relaxed when the world has gone to such shit, but I can't help it. "You have me," I eventually say.

His thumb continues it's steady pace against my hand. "And you have me," he says.

"Do you remember what else you said?" I ask. I open my eyes and turn my head, pulling away so I can look at his face.

"Yes," he says slowly.

"What did you say?" I reply.

"I said I love you."

His eyes stare into mine as if meeting a challenge. They're unapologetically honest. "Do you still mean that?" I repeat.

"Yes."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "I love you too." I say.

And then his lips are on mine.

We kiss without thought, moving our lips together rashly. I turn my body around, kneeling in front of him to allow myself better access. His hands gently cup my face, but I grip his shoulders tightly.

"Promise me you're still my friend," I say, breaking away. I fall forward, resting my head in the crook of his neck.

"I've never stopped being your friend," he says. He retracts his legs, so we're both kneeling in front of the other. "You will always be my person, Katniss."

I smile at him. "I'd like that."

This time, I'm the one who leans in. I kiss him softer, pushing on his chest so he's backed up against the wall. He lays his legs out in front of him, and I climb onto his lap. He places his hands on my hips, pulling me into him. I wrap my arms around his neck, and tilt my head as his tongue travels down to my neck and back up again. We don't talk. We've never needed words, anyways.

We kiss until we need air, and then start all over again. "You're my person too," I tell him, breaking our lips apart so I can lean our foreheads together. "You always have been."


End file.
